


regeneration

by eraserheadbaby



Category: Tsukihime
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bloodlust, F/M, Love/Hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 06:34:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19987699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eraserheadbaby/pseuds/eraserheadbaby
Summary: Arcueid puts her pieces back together. Some of them weren't there before.





	regeneration

The imposing silence brings about a hum that plasters the entire apartment. Over the front door, a pool of blood rests. Seventeen body parts swim in it.

Slowly, threads of muscle tissue begin to form between the body parts.

The two halves of the torso connect.

Arcueid feels her energy collapse under the weight of using all her internal powers, all concentrated in undiluted force. But it's not like there are any alternatives available to her. Her killer has managed to literally dismantle her- they are not wounds that leave her a choice of holding back.

Her killer.

Someone killed her. They just opened her door and tore her apart, inside her own apartment, in the blink of an eye.

Arcueid's life has been an unimaginative, repetitive mosaic of clashes, fights and exterminations. This time, she'd been ready to devote herself to what would be a battle with her most decisive enemy yet. Just then, a stranger simply decided, like they had any right to, to mutilate her.

The head and neck connect with the torso.

Hate.

So much hate.

Arcueid hates her killer. It's nothing she's felt for any of her boundless enemies before. In fact, she'd swear it's the first feeling she's experienced in all her life.

She basks in this new sensation. The inborn impulses resonate across her supernatural veins. The hunger hits like a punch to the gut, almost makes saliva brim her mouth. Hunger awakened by the thought of finding her murderer and cutting them apart, just the way they did to her, and feasting on their blood.

The shoulders, arms, hands and fingers connect with the torso.

But this vivid scenario of contact with her killer makes Arcueid wonder about something else, as unpredictable as her hate. Just what kind of person is her killer? Going by the efficiency of their work, maybe it's a seasoned assassin, and their fight will be a true orgy of violence. Or maybe it was begginer's luck, this gruesome murder of her. And when her killer sees her, he'll be numb with shock, and she'll attack as her fangs will sharpen and-

Arcueid feels like she could drown in this vast sea of possibilities, of useless conjecture about a stranger. For once, her mind isn't made of battle tactics and information about enemies, meant to be forgotten once their use expired. Now, there's only want.

She wants to meet her murderer, learn everything there is to know about them. Know them inside and out. She wants to be with them in all the ways that will sate her famine, her lust, her beastliness. She wants to kill them with all the avarice resting on her broken limbs.

The pelvis, the hips, the legs, the feet and the toes connect with the torso.

There's something wrong with her.

There is nothing recognizable about these thoughts. It's like her killer threw her blood over the blueprints of her life, and now she has to reconstruct it with the wrong architecture.

The consciousness connects with the body.

Arcueid doesn't care, or maybe she's genuinely incapable of convincing herself to care. This sick attraction to a stranger, her literal murderer, is a needle mercilessly pumping excitement through her blood.

Much quicker than needed, she stands up from the crimson floor, ready to go outside and search for the person she's looking for.

Weakness glides all across her body. It seems even her whole power wasn't enough to give her a full recovery. That's how vicious her killer was. The downpour of hate, of callous exaltation, of desire, begins again, just from this thought alone.

Her hand trembles as it twists the handle of the door. Is it because it's still freshly formed, or is her excitement affecting her that much?

Arcueid walks out. Her feet, stomping on her own blood and painting the edges of her long skirt in red, synchronize with the bloodthirsty war drum of her heart.

**Author's Note:**

> if you also still care abt tsukihime ityool 2019 throw your mf hands up!!!!!


End file.
